Chapter I - A Shady Proposition.
The Dragon’s Rogue
Chapter I - A shady proposition.
It was the beginning of winter in Cyrium. The harsh snow hailing from the frozen north, covered the vast majority of the northern parts of the country. The large Dalmora mountains, once covered in lush trees that reached into dozens upon dozens of points that could be seen through the entire country, now lay covered in a thick blanket of snow, almost blending into the clouded skies that dominated the north.
This weather would have easily bothered those who lived in the much warmer southern Kingdoms, often regarding the folk who settled in the north fools and simpletons. This talk never bothered the northern Kingdoms though, for to them, it was the perfect life.
Davril Longfang enjoyed the winter as well. The cold weather would usually mean that waring Warlords, Mercenary bands, bandits and other types of groups would be retreating back to their lairs in order to divide their loot, prepare themselves for raids on caravaneers traversing the cold climate and generally rest up. This was Davril’s favourite time of the year.
It’s what brought joy to his life about his occupation. All around Cyrium, Lords, Barons, Nobles and other such wealthy persons would often have problems with raiders attacking their outposts or towns before any of the local military could do anything to stop them, there was also the problem dealing with hit and run raids on caravans that would often see them out of their personal belongings.
And often, they’d pay a lot of coin in order to have them returned.
Which meant contracts would often be given to a special type of mercenary. One’s who could get in and out of a building or stronghold stealthily without being discovered or if captured, couldn’t lead angry bandits or authoritative figures back to the ones who hired them in the first place. Davril was one of these people, a thief for hire, paid to do the jobs that guards were unable to perform due to the legal ramifications. They weren’t evil, neither were they good.
For the past seven years, ever since he had turned eighteen, Davril had been trained and shown the ways of being a successful thief by various people. From the infamous Thieves Guild hidden in the city of New Port to the Red Falcon Company of Andonar, Davril had managed to learn the trade and turn it into a successful business for himself.
In those seven years he has had his fair share of failures as well as his successes, ranging from imprisonment - only to break out several days later - to near death experiences at the hands of swords, axes, magic, arrows, bolts and even an angry housewife at one point in his life. But for all of his success, Davril had always wanted something more from his life, a bigger challenge. He’d covered the entire world pulling off contracts, from the Altorian Empire in the west to the Five Kingdoms of Men in the east, and was bored. Nothing was exciting anymore.
Steal a stolen necklace from generic bandit boss, recover incriminating documents for government official for whoever needed proof of treachery.
And so, Davril would often spend his days in between contracts using the coin he earned to try and find other ways to make his life more entertaining. From trying to out drink Dwarves in taverns to fine foods to brothels. Yet nothing seemed to work.
Even now as he walked down the streets of the small town of Maltasor on the Empire’s border, watching as the local children played in the snow as their parents supervised and went on with their daily lives, it reminded him of the days were the snow would mean the income of new contracts and pay. Something that now brought him nothing but boredom.
As he trudged along in the snow, the wind tried to tug away at his hooded cloak, he wrapped it around him tighter. He soon came to his destination and a small smile formed on his face.
The White Dragon.
The Dragon was the town’s only tavern and one of Davril’s favourite places in the entire world. Not only did they not care about what you did for a living there, but they had some of the finest ales the north could produce. With a quick stride he pushed open the door and entered into the building, instantly being hit by the warmth within.
“Ah, Davril!” A shout from the bar caught his attention, “How’ve you been me boy?”
Davril smiled at the barkeep, he was a fairly aged and stocky Dwarf, something of a rarity to see in the north as they hated the snow. He was sporting a slightly dirty white shirt that was underneath a even filthier brown apron, not that Davril minded. The Dwarf had a long and knotted brown beard that came to rest halfway down his chest, making up for the lack of hair he had on his bald head.
With another stride, Davril quickly made his way over to the bar as the Dwarf stepped out from behind the counter before firmly grasping Davril’s hand and shook it in greeting.
“Evening, Bolaris,” Davril greeted warmly, “The same as usual, yourself?”
“Not too bad, not too bad. Come, you look like you’re in dire need of an ale!” Bolaris chuckled, ushering Davril to a stool.
“Am I that predictable?” Davril laughed as he took his seat.
Bolaris poured out a large wooden tankard of ale for him, sliding it to Davril then carried on wiping down the counter as Davril took a heavy swig. As Davril slammed the half empty tankard onto the counter and let out a satisfied sigh, Bolaris began the conversation.
“So, you completed any good contracts as of late?” he asked, spitting into a tankard before wiping it with his cloth.
“Don't get me started…” Davril grumbled before taking another drink, “Same old shit as I usually get, steal a couple of trinkets. You know the drill.”
“Aye lad, but surely with the winter season starting the more juicer contracts will start appearing. Right?”
Davril sighed as he downed the rest of his drink. Bolaris took the tankard and began to refill it.
“You’d think that, but we’ve had this conversation before, Bolaris. So many times I’ve nearly lost count.” Davril replied, resting his forehead on his left hand.
“Eh come on now lad, surely there’s some contract that could get out out of this damn rut?”
“Maybe, maybe… but for now, I just want to drink until I believe I’m able to take on a troll with just my fists.”
“Now that’s something I like to hear!” Bolaris grinned, “I’ll drink to that!”
As Bolaris went to pour himself a tankard, Davril placed a hand on the Dwarf’s arm stopping him and looked into his face with concern.
“You’re running the tavern, Bolaris. Is that wise?”
There was a slight pause as the two looked at one another before they both burst out into laughter, Davril held his head as Bolaris slammed his hand repeatedly into the bar counter.
“Good one lad! Now shut up and drink!”
The tavern was roaring with laughter as Bolaris and Davril leant on one another, the bar counter littered with dozens of tankards. By now their drinking had caught the attention of the other tavern goers who had since joined in the drinking, sharing jokes and stories as the evening went on. Currently, Bolaris was telling everyone a story from his days as a guard.
“Wait, wait it gets better, when the guard woke up his keys were missing and the prisoner was never heard from again!”
The tavern laughed louder as Bolaris slapped his knee hard, his laughs overwhelming the other patrons.
“Anyway, thats how I lost my job as a prison guard.”
As Bolaris continued to laugh along with Davril, some of the patrons had slowly stopped laughing, unsure if Bolaris was being serious or not.
As the evening drew on and the patrons began to stumble out of the tavern to their homes or up the stairs to their rooms, Davril slammed his final pint into the bar counter and let out a satisfied belch before cackling.
“You know what, Bolarish?” He slurred, “you know jusht how to make thingsh better, ya know that, right?”
He didn’t get an answer. Instead, all Davril heard was a loud snore from the passed out Dwarf as he lay on the floor behind the counter, a line of drool leaking from his mouth.
“Bloarish?” He asked, again receiving no answer, “aaah shcrew it I’m going to bed…”
He slowly got to his legs and stumbled backwards into a support beam with a soft thud and snickered to himself stupidly. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and stumbled forwards, flailing his arms slightly as he got his balance correct.
“Alrighty Davril… one foot then the other…” he murmured.
With great care, Davril managed to start a steady pace as he slowly made his way over to the stairs and proceeded to climb them, using the wall as support. He had a private room that Bolaris kept free for him all year round and paid for. It wasn’t much. But it was his.
Failing to open the door by normal means due to his intoxication he resorted to roughly slamming his body weight into it, breaking it open and falling to the floor with a loud thud. After laying on the ground groaning from landing on his face, he got up and used the nearby bed for support to stand himself upright. With a kick of his foot, he slammed the door shut, then he clambered into the bed and fell into the pillow with a soft ‘poomph’ and gave a sigh in contentment.
As Cyrium’s twin moons shone brightly down on Maltasor, a soft silence hung over the small town as the cold winter wind gently blew about. A few guards, stationed there by the Empire, patrolled the deserted streets wrapped warmly in thick, heavy fur cloaks. Two of them leaned against the wall of the tavern as they shared a bottle of warm liquid under the dim glow of a lantern.
“By Xerillien it’s freezing!” one grumbled, “remind me again how we got stationed here exactly?”
“Normal procedure, Milo,” the other replied, swigging from the bottle, “every couple of months they swap the guards around in Maltasor with Ravenwood, figured you would’ve known that.”
“Well I’ve only been working for the guard for a month, just didn’t think I’d be sent to this frozen hell-hole so soon.”
“Ah leave the town alone,” the guard laughed giving the other a firm slap on the back, “the town grows on you and besides, they have some of the best damn ale here and give us lot a discount.”
“That… actually does sound pretty nice.”
“And besides,” he continued, “the cold’s bracing. Puts hair on your chest.”
“That’s easy for a damn Snow Elf to say… your kind thrive in the snow.”
“Is the little human afraid of the snow,” he teased, making baby noises.
“Oh, bite my arse Kaldor,” he laughed, giving Kaldor a shove.
As the two continued to talk, they remained oblivious to the hooded person watching them from ontop of a nearby rooftop carefully. The stranger jumped from the roof into a darkened alleyway and landed with a soft crunch as they hit the snow, leaning against the side of the building and focusing their attention once more on the two guards.
Waiting for a moment to focus on the two guards, a soft glow shone from under their hood and the guards heads briefly shone before vanishing in a second.
“Kaldor…” Milo murmured, “do you feel funny?”
“Sort of… but I don’t feel…” Kaldor’s eyes slowly closed before he could finish and he fell to the ground.
“Kaldor?” Milo asked in worry.
Before he could rush to his friend’s aid, Milo groaned as his eyes began to get heavier and soon he fell to his knees and then to the ground beside Kaldor. After a brief moment watching from the shadows, the hooded figure quickly strode out and over to the two downed guards to check their pulses. Confirming that they were both knocked unconscious.
With a smirk from under the figure’s hood, it stood up and quietly made its way into the tavern, taking great care to remain as silent as possible. Once inside, it slipped into the darker section of the tavern in order to remain unnoticed by anyone who happened to be awake still. But that didn’t matter.
Anyone who was still in the tavern was now either in their beds upstairs, left for home or passed out from the alcohol on the floor, as evident by the snores that filled the building. the figure shook it head as they calmly walked across the room, avoiding the drunken heaps that dotted the floor and slowly made their way upstairs.
The same glow shone from under their hood as they quietly checked each room, the glow forming on the door handles in order to open them until they came to a stop by the furthest room and inspected the door. It looked like it had been broken into and there was a soft snore coming from within.
With a gentle push from the figures hand, they slowly opened the door with a soft creak and entered quietly. Taking great care in closing the door behind them silently. Then, with gentle footsteps, the mysterious stranger made their way to the side of the bed.
“Are you Davril Longfang.” The figure said with a woman’s voice.
Davril murmured in his sleep and rolled over, oblivious to the intruder.
“Get up!”
Like before, there was a flash from under the hood and Davril was thrown off his bed and onto the floor with a loud thud that instantly woke him up.
“Who? What? Where?” Davril slurred, still half drunk, before stumbling to his feet.
Seeing the stranger in his room, his eyes went wide as he clumsily reached for his sword that was still attached to his belt and drew it, trying to hold it in a straight line pointing at the intruder.
“You have five seconds to tell me what you’re doing here…” he mumbled, his vision and mind a little blurred.
“Are you, or are you not Davril Longfang?” The intruder asked again impatiently.
“Who’s asking?” Davril demanded.
“If you’re willing to listen to my proposal, a potential employer.”
“Sorry, but I’m not in the market for a contract right now. Now piss off before I run you through.” Davril threatened, hoping the intruder would sense his irritation at being woken up.
The woman chuckled before a white glow shone from under her hood, giving Davril a brief glance at her features causing him to widen his eyes in surprise. As he stared at her, he wondered if the alcohol in his system was making him see a bizarre hallucination. Given mages don’t have glowing heads.
Suddenly, his sword shone the same colour and his blade was forcibly yanked from his hand, unable to keep a firm grip from his lowered reflexes. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat as the woman slowly turned the blade and gripped it in her own hand.
“Now will you listen?” She chuckled.
Davril glared at her, but reluctantly nodded with a low growl as he shifted his shoulders, making his cloak cover the front of his body somewhat. He may of been disarmed of his sword, but Davril had a couple of daggers hidden for emergencies such as these and his fingers lightly stroked the hilt as he eyed the woman. Albeit still trying to get his bearings together and focus on his target.
“As I was saying… I have a job for you, if you’re interested.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“I’m an ambitious creature and I want to have a certain ruler… out of the way in order to achieve my goals, but to do this I require a powerful magical artifact.”
Davril’s eyebrow raised slightly as he shifted on the spot, his body slowly swaying.
“And this is where you come in, I’ve tried several times to acquire this artifact but everytime I send my minions, they return empty handed or don’t return at all.”
“Sorry lady, I don’t tend to take contracts that end up with a ruler being dethroned. Not exactly a good look for your reputation, you know?”
“Oh yes, because a professional thief has such a reputation,” she sarcastically replied.
“You’d be surprised,” Davril smirked at her, “like I said though, no dice.”
The woman snarled at him before recomposing her self and trying again.
“I know you have no reason to trust me, but the ruler I wish to dethrone is blackhearted and cruel to her subjects. I can make it worth your while.”
“Look, I’m fairly well known in virtually every Kingdom in Cyrium,” Davril began, “there is no way in hell I could possibly help dethrone a ruler without a serious backlash on myself. Oddly enough, and this is the crazy part, I don’t like the idea of being executed for treason.”
“What if I told you this contract would not involve any of the rulers of Cyrium?” She replied, “and actually… was to do with a ruler in a Kingdom I can guarantee you have never been to.”
“And this Kingdom is?” Davril asked.
“Equestria and its neighbouring realms.”
Davril remained quiet for a moment as he processed what she had said. It certainly was a Kingdom he had never heard of, in fact, he was unsure about its existence. But Davril had never been across the great sea before, so therefore it was entirely possible that the woman was telling the truth.
“Equestria? Sound a little horsey…” he muttered, “say I take this contract… how much gold are we talking about?”
He swore he could see fangs when the woman smile under her hood. She chuckled softly before crossing her arms slowly.
“The amount I could pay my dear Longfang… would make you richer than the Altorian Emperor himself.”
Davril had to stop his jaw from dropping. Was she seriously that rich? His mind began to scream its doubt of her claim, warning him of a possible trap, but the alcohol in his system only served to make his curiosity rocket sky high and not listen to his common sense.
“... Go on,” Davril replied.
The woman smirked to herself, knowing full well she had him where she wanted him. As a sign of good faith, she handed Davril back his sword. He took the sword cautiously and returned it to its sheath.
“All you have to do is sneak into their castle, retrieve the artifact and bring it to me. And I’ll make you the richest man alive.”
Davril felt a grin form on his face as he pictured the amount of gold she was depicting to him, all common sense and suspicion of her claims rapidly melting away thanks to the alcohol.
“I’ll do it… but on one condition.”
She gritted her teeth in annoyance at this but held it back.
“And that is?”
“I’ll need time to familiarize myself with the layout of the land, as well as the city the ruler rules from and its neighbouring towns. Just so I can lower the risk of myself being caught.”
She thought for a moment at his condition. While she wanted this to be over and done with, she had to admit he was right.
“Very well, you’ll have ten days before I will contact you. Then you have a week in order to complete the contract or you will be replaced.”
Davril nodded in understanding, during his early days he had failed to complete some contracts on time and it had been passed on to another. What he didn’t catch onto was the true meaning behind her words.
“Okay… so how do I go about getting to Equestria? By a specific boat or?”
“Allow me…”
The glow returned as her entire face was illuminated giving Davril a clear, yet brief, image of her face before his attention was shifted to something behind him. He stared wide eyed at the glowing green portal that was now in the room with them.
Before he could say anything, he turned back to the woman before being blasted with a beam of magical energy that threw him into the portal with a cry of surprise.
“Don’t fail me Longfang…” she purred, entering the portal behind him before it closed.
Stats
Page generated in 0.018 seconds
Total duration
1,009 users online
1,742,026 hits today, 2,244,100 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Extra quote
Prereader comment.
This... Is actually very intriguing. I like this guy and the world you have put him in. I shall continue on...
3262091
Wake up jake....Wake up and smell the ashes.
Did you... Make a TF2 reference?!
You, sir or madam, are awesome.
lol, Team Fortress 2 reference of meet the Medic
Okay. I read through the first chapter, and I had a few comments to make:
First, you don't do a good job of establishing the main character. Rather than showing him in action, you simply rattle off an uninteresting backstory before moving to show him doing things that aren't very interesting, i.e. he walks into a tavern and drinks ale with a dwarf. We get that he doesn't take a lot of things seriously and he's bored, but those aren't very distinctive personality traits when he shares them with most other characters who follow his stock character archetype. And because he isn't really established as anything other than "standard fantasy thief type," Davril just isn't very interesting. Imagine this idea as an alternative:
Instead of the narration just telling us that he's a thief and that he's bored with what he's doing, we opened on him doing a thieving job. And during this thieving job it's really tense and stuff, maybe he's inches away from tipping off a guard, or maybe the guards are already tipped off and looking for him. So you have this tense situation, but he's completely bored. Maybe he's got a piece of parchment that he's doodling on while they're looking for him. That way we have an exciting opening and our protagonist is introduced in a way that makes him stand out, and illustrates his predicament. That'd be funnier, it'd engage the audience with action, and it'd bring the character more to life.
The fantasy world you build is also fairly bland and generic, and it doesn't help that you dump names on us without any context as to their meaning. You name characters and places and things that don't mean anything to the audience because there's very little context or relevance to the events happening. A question: The setting of this fantasy world, with its two moons and northern and southern kingdoms, the dwarf innkeeper, will the two guards; will they actually be significant to the overall story? Because with Davril heading through a portal to Equestria, it's hard to see what relevance the snow elf guard is going to have to the plot.
Also, just because something was funny in Team Fortress 2 does not mean you should use it in your story.
Now, your prose itself isn't bad (apart from some words that shouldn't be capitalized), but what you really need to focus on is giving the reader a hook or a reason to care.
The act of which thou hast committed manifests itself before mine very eyes.
3371291
im going out and saying that that is a:
refrence
Tf2 medic reference, good one
3278470 I actually keep forgetting the main character's name, he's just a paper-cut out from what adults thought a 1990's teen was put into a role of a thief.